


Aire

by Akiko_Natsuko



Series: McHanzo [21]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blood and Injury, Broken Promises, Character Death, Death, Established Relationship, Heavy Angst, Love, M/M, Missions Gone Wrong, Promises, Slow Death, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-17 05:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16510070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiko_Natsuko/pseuds/Akiko_Natsuko
Summary: When an undercover mission goes wrong, McCree finds himself unable to do anything but watch as Hanzo is dying in front of him, unable to do anything but make promises that he knows he will never be able to keep. Not without Hanzo.





	Aire

   McCree wasn’t sure exactly when he had abandoned his seat at the desk and started pacing back and forth across the room, if you could even call it that, as it was little more than glorified box that barely held him, the narrow camp bed he had yet to use and the surveillance equipment he had been glued to for the past three days. Perhaps it had been when Hanzo hadn’t checked in that morning like he was supposed to, but probably not, because as much as he worried about Hanzo, he had done his fair share of undercover operations in Blackwatch and he knew that missing one check-in was often essential to maintaining your cover. And it wasn’t as though Hanzo was new to this either, after all the archer had a knack for working in the shadows that put all of them, McCree and Genji included too same. It also made him invaluable on missions like this, although it didn’t stop the kernel of worry that was growing as the time crept on and the communicator remained silent.

    It had definitely been after he had given into his concern and spent a couple of hours combing through all the footage from the CCTV cameras that they had access too, searching for any sign of his missing partner, or the slightest hint that their targets wasn’t the Assassin for hire that he had been pretending to be, falling back on a lifestyle he had long since left behind.

 There had been nothing.

   He’d spied their main target, a politically active banker who had a few too many ties to Talon heading to work as normal, watched as the maids came and went, following their usual routine, noting familiar visitors and matching them to the file they had been building up over the last few days. Everything was normal and yet as time had crept towards the next check-in he had grown more and more anxious, an itching sensation that couldn’t be soothed and at some point, he’d needed to get up and move, to pretend that he was doing something, rather than sitting there and waiting for someone to tell him what was happening.

    It didn’t stop his gaze from darting to the equipment every few minutes, or his fingers from tapping nervously against Peacekeeper whenever his eyes strayed to the photo he had pinned up next to it. It was stupid. Something that would probably have had Reyes slinging him a disciplinary back in the day, but with so few agents and the course of the war going against them, he needed something to remind him of the life they had beyond the job. The photo in question was one of the first that eh had managed to get of the two of them, Hanzo always reluctant to be caught on camera and McCree could still remember how surprised he had been that day when the archer had willingly pressed into his side, tilting his head up to catch McCree’s grateful peck on the lips rather than his cheek and Genji ha managed to catch it all. Despite his worry, McCree felt his lips quirking up at the memory, remembering just how red Hanzo had turned when he’d realised just what he’d done and that his brother had caught the moment, proceeding to chase the younger Shimada across the base’s rooftops to the amusement of the rest of the team.

    A sudden, shrill beeping broke the silence and he nearly stumbled in his haste to lunge for the flashing communicator, eyes darting to the clock. Hanzo was late, but it was okay…he was okay…he had to be okay. McCree knew that he was breathing too fast, that his voice was going to be shaky, but he couldn’t help it as he fumbled accepting the call.

“Hanzo?” There was a moment of silence on the other end and he felt his heart sink, knowing that if he had been his partner, then Hanzo would have replied straight away even if he was injured.

 **“ _It’s Winston.”_** The familiar voice was like a blow to the stomach and McCree sucked in a breath, the communicator groaning in protest as his grip tightened. _Hanzo._ Part of him wanted to just hang up there and then, worried that Hanzo would try and call whilst he was distracted, even as a small part of him whispered that the archer was going to call. A thought that he hastily pushed away, although his efforts weren’t helped by Winston’s worried voice demanding. **_“You still haven’t heard from him?”_**

“No.”

 ** _“There’s still time.”_** McCree wasn’t sure which of them Winston was trying to reassure, so he held silent, not quite trusting himself not to snap at the Scientist. He hadn’t been happy about the mission in the first place, not least because the intel they did have was sketchy in several places. However, more than that, it had felt like neither he nor Hanzo had managed to spend a full day at home for the past few months. As cramped as their room at the Watchpoint was, built for one person, not two men and a pair of cat-sized Dragons who seemed determined to leave a trail of destruction in their wake wherever they were, it was home. ** _“McCree, I…”_**

“Don’t.” McCree shook his head, forgetting for a moment that Winston couldn’t see him. He couldn’t bear platitudes at the best of times, least of all when Hanzo was potentially missing behind enemy lines, and his hand strayed down to his gun before he yanked it away. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t just go storming in because if Hanzo was okay and just stuck, unable to reach his communicator, then McCree rushing in would ruin everything he had been working for, which meant that he had to wait. He glanced at the screens again, searching each one for some sign of the archer although he already knew he wouldn’t find anything, before sighing. “I’ll contact you when I hear something.” When, not if. He couldn’t think about it as an ‘if; otherwise he really would start to fall apart. There was a protest on the other end of the call, but he didn’t pay it any mind, ending the call and setting the communicator back on the desk and staring at it for a moment, willing it to ring again and praying that it would be Hanzo if it did.

   It remained stubbornly silent and he felt the pit of worry deepen as he forced himself to turn away, resuming his anxious pacing back and forth across the room.

_Hanzo…_

**

    The second check-in was well and truly past, the sky outside dipping towards an inky blue streaked with oranges and reds that reminded him of Route 66. He had finally managed to show Hanzo around his childhood stomping ground a few months ago, and even though the place was tainted by his time in Deadlock and everything that had happened afterwards, it had been an overwhelming sensation to show Hanzo something so private, to see his partner drinking in the harsh landscape that had helped shape the man he had inexplicably fallen in love with.

    That had been their last vacation, if you could call it that, a couple of days snatched between missions that had ended up with them being reamed out by Soldier 76 for going astray. It had been worth it though, just for those few stolen moments. In return Hanzo had promised to take him to Hanamura when they got the chance, shushing McCree who had protested after seeing the pain that thoughts of his home always caused Hanzo and smiling, a bittersweet twist of his lips as he remembered how Hanzo had kissed him, silencing his concerns. Whispering that he wanted to do it, that he wanted to give McCree what he had given him by taking him to Route 66 and there had been nothing that McCree could say to that, settling for kissing the archer again and promising that eh would be there when Hanzo was ready.

_It was a promise._

    McCree grimaced. He remembered the early stages of their relationship, back when Hanzo had shied away from anything to do with promises or proclamations of feelings that had no place in the life they were living. In a war. Not because he didn’t fall them or want them, but because he was terrified about losing it all. It was a fear that McCree could understand, only he took the opposite approach. He made the promises and said the words, because he knew that if he waited he might not get the chance to say them, and at some point, that attitude had rubbed off on Hanzo. That day had been a promise, sealed with a whispered declaration of love as they looked down o the world that had shaped McCree. _He promised. That means he has to come back._

_He promised._

    The shrill cry of the communicator broke into his thoughts and for half a second all he could do was stare at it, scarcely daring to believe that his prayers had been answered. But then he was moving, knocking the camp bed out of the way as he lunged for it, nearly crushing it in his haste.

“Hanzo…?!” At first, he thought that the other end of the line was completely silent, but then he caught a soft breath and then another, as though someone was fighting to keep themselves under control and it felt like he had just been doused in cold water. He remembered Hanzo doing the same on a mission that had gone horrendously wrong months ago, leaving them both trapped in a narrow alleyway, attempting to hide from their pursuers whilst McCree had fought to stop the archer from bleeding out from where Reaper’s shotgun had caught him in the should. Any sound would have spelt death for them right then, Hanzo unable to fight and McCree refusing to leave his side, and it had broken his heart to see Hanzo struggling to keep his breathing even, to hold back the pained noises and keep them safe. “Hanzo?”

**_“J-Jesse…”_ **

    McCree’s heart constricted at the pained whisper, catching the way Hanzo’s breath caught and his voice trembled. The use of his first name made it a hundred times worse, because Hanzo had never once used his first name when they were on a job, not even when McCree had nearly died from getting lured into an ambush with only the archer’s deadly aim and two rather protective Dragons saving his sorry hide. “Hanzo, what is…?” He trailed off, forgetting to breathe for a moment as the screens flickered, the CCTV images that he had been watching turning black, screen by screen, plunging the room into darkness for a moment, before all the displays came to life once more, each one showing the same scene.

    The feed now showed a room that looked as though it was halfway between Angela’s lab back at the Watchpoint and the massive bank vaults that he had helped the Junkers break into a few months ago when they had been trying to cut off some of Talon’s financial resources. It was all cold, metallic walls and white floors. And in the centre, was what looked like a giant, goldfish bowl, a huge square of glass that reminded him somewhat of the tank where Genji had been suspended for weeks when they had first brought him back to Blackwatch. Only this one held no liquid, in fact it seemed to be nothing more than a box with a door, but his attention wasn’t on that, but rather the figure inside it that was currently slumped against one of the glass walls. A figure that he could recognise even when he was half-blind from using Deadeye.

_Hanzo…_

    Slowly he stepped closer, eyes roving over his partner, anger beginning to spike through the fear that had consumed him after hearing Hanzo’s voice. Hanzo was a mess. The image wasn’t as clear as he would like, although maybe that was a good thing. However, even with the blurry image he could make out the blood on Hanzo’s arm, blood that was beginning to pool at his side. The archer’s head was bowed, resting against his chest and from what McCree could see, his chest was rising and falling in laboured movement, speaking of other, hidden injuries. The dark hair had fallen free of its usual tie, obscuring Hanzo’s face from sight and his clothes were tattered and torn, as though he had fought and fought hard. Remembering the communicator that was still pressed against his ear he took a deep breath, burying the burning rage, not wanting Hanzo to think he was angry at him. “Hanzo. Sweetheart, I can see you but, where are you?”

   Hanzo’s head had jerked up at his words and McCree couldn’t hold back a growl as he got his first good look at his partner’s face. There was a bloody gash on his forehead which had dyed the side of his face crimson from temple to chin, whilst bruises were already starting to blossom across the rest of his face, the purple and blue marks standing out starkly against unnaturally pale skin, whilst one of his eyes was swollen shut. **“W-here?”**

“Cameras, they’ve patched them into my system.” McCree knew that was a bad sign and that they were probably closing in on his position right now, and his free hand dropped down to his weapon, resting lightly on it. Let them come. He knew that he should probably fortify the room as best as he could, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the screens, watching as Hanzo’s gaze rove around the room he was being held in before the archer shook his head, a tiny, weak movement before he let his head slump against his chest once more and McCree heard his breathing catch again.

**_“I didn’t w-want you to see.”_ **

“That doesn’t matter, sweetheart,” McCree whispered, heart aching. Did Hanzo honestly think that he would judge him for this? That he would blame him for what had happened to the mission that they had both known could go wrong at any moment? _Probably._ Even after all this time Hanzo had moments when he struggled to accept his place in Overwatch, even though he had no false modesty when it came to his skills and experience, and it was even worse when it came to his place in McCree’s life. That was still very much a work in progress, one that McCree would need to pay more attention to when they made it out of here. And they were going to get out of this, he couldn’t accept any other outcome, even if it meant that he had to tear the place apart all by himself. “Do you know where they’re keeping you?” He had the schematics of the mansion, if Hanzo knew where he was then he could get to him. He knew that it wouldn’t be that easy, that anything could go wrong and he could end up half-blind from using Deadeye or worse, but he would be able to get to him, and besides now that he had proof that something was wrong he could call for back up.

 ** _“No…”_** Hanzo whispered. ** _“It doesn’t matter…”_**

“Hanzo…” McCree growled warningly, not in the mood for his partner to be self-sacrificing when he looked like he currently did, especially when McCree was already itching to tear apart the people who had dared to lay a hand on Hanzo. “I…”

 ** _“Not enough time,”_** Hanzo cut him off, slurring slightly and McCree’s eyes narrowed as he watched Hanzo struggling to lift his head again, before he eventually gave up on the effort and settled for shaking his head slightly from side to side. ** _“Won’t make…it…time.”_**

“What do you mean?” McCree demanded, not liking how Hanzo was sounding less coherent than he had a moment ago. This was the man who had delivered a perfect debriefing whilst bleeding out in front of them, back before he had learned to trust them with his weakness and whilst his current injuries were severe, they shouldn’t be enough to cause this, although his gaze lingered on where the bloody gash on his forehead was currently hidden by dark hair. Head wounds were tricky at best and he wished that Angela was here to give him a better assessment. Realising that he hadn’t had a reply, he scowled. “Hanzo, what do you mean?” Was he injured worse that what McCree could see from here? The thought that Hanzo could be bleeding out in front of him had him pacing again, although his gaze never left the screens even as he fumbled in his pocket for the other communicator, typing an urgent message to the rest of the team as he waited for a response from Hanzo.

**_“J-Jesse?”_ **

When it came the reply did little to reassure him, Hanzo sounding more confused than ever, exhaustion dripping from his voice and McCree had to swallow before he could even try to answer. “Yeah, I’m here… I’m here.” _For all the good I’m doing,_ he thought bitterly, not for the first time wishing hat he had argued more for them being sent in as a pair. Although all that would probably have achieved was both of them being trapped in there, but at least Hanzo wouldn’t have been alone, something that he knew the archer hated more than anything even if he would never admit it aloud. “Hanzo…” He softened his voice, using the tone he usually reserved for frightened kids, one that he had perfected with Fareeha when she was younger and would seek refuge with him when she was in trouble with her mother. It seemed to work, Hanzo’s head slowly lifting, his gaze roving again as though hoping to find the camera that would let him see McCree. “What do you mean there’s not enough time? What are they doing to you?”

**_“Air…”_ **

“Air?” McCree echoed, not comprehending for a moment, but then his gaze darted to the door of Hanzo’s prison, before shifting along the glass walls and to what he could see of the ceiling and his breath caught as he spied what looked like a vent set in the glass. _They wouldn’t…_ He couldn’t lie to himself, especially not now when Hanzo’s head was slumped again, his breathing more strained than it had been a few minutes ago and he swallowed. “Are they cutting off your air?” It wasn’t really a question, he already knew the answer, but it didn’t stop his heart from breaking when Hanzo nodded, a barely noticeable movement unless you were looking for it and his voice barely audible.

**_“Yes…”_ **

    McCree’s thoughts were whirling, fear and anger giving way to sheer terror. Hanzo was already showing signs of reduced oxygen levels and McCree had no idea how long the archer had been in there, and with no idea where exactly Hanzo was, he could lose valuable minutes hunting in the wrong places. Minutes they didn’t have. Numbers, medical advice that he had picked up over the years chased through his mind too quickly for him to grasp, panic choking him. He was vaguely aware that the other communicator was beeping, no doubt Winston and the others responding to his urgent message, but he couldn’t bring himself to move and answer it, unable to tear his attention away from the screens and the ragged breathing he could hear through the device pressed against his ear. **_“Can’t…”_** He jolted when Hanzo spoke again, aching at how small Hanzo sounded in that moment, how vulnerable. ** _“J-esse? Where…?”_**

     He wasn’t sure if Hanzo was losing track of where he was, or if he wanted to know where McCree was, either thought leaving him with a lump in his throat. “Hanzo…” He swallowed thickly, wishing that he had the answers for him, that he could promise that they were going to get out of this and have the vacation they deserved. The other communicator had gone silent behind him now and he closed his eyes, reaching a decision and knowing that both Hanzo and the rest of the team were going to kill him for it. “I’m coming.” There wasn’t enough time and for all he knew Hanzo’s captors had already closed in on his position and were simply waiting for him to emerge, but it had to be better than standing here and watching Hanzo slip away in front of him.

 ** _“N-No.”_** Hanzo had jolted at his words, visibly struggling to lift his head enough to look in the rough direction of the cameras, terror written across his face and McCree wanted to cry, because he knew that the fear wasn’t for himself but for McCree.

“Hanzo.”

 ** _“Please…”_** Hanzo pleaded, shaking his head. **_“No…”_**

“Hanzo, I can’t just stand by and…” _Watch you die._ He couldn’t even put it into words, and yet he knew that was exactly what was going to happen if he didn’t move. “I…”

 ** _“I’m…”_** Hanzo cut him off again and then fell silent, and McCree felt a spike of terror when he realised that Hanzo had slumped again, sliding closer to the floor and it took him a long, terrifying moment to realise that he could still make out Hanzo’s breathing over the communicator. Still, it was far too long for his liking before Hanzo even tried to continue, making no effort to try and sit up again as the words slowly trickled out. ** _“I’m not getting out of this…I…can’t even summon…”_** He stalled again, the confusion more evident this time and McCree frowned, leaning closer in an attempt to understand what Hanzo was trying to tell him. **_“Summon.”_** Hanzo repeated slowly, before giving up, moving his arm just for McCree to see. ** _“I can’t…”_**

Comprehension dawned as the movement drew his attention back to the blood on Hanzo’s arm that he had forgotten in light of other concerns It wasn’t the first time that an injury had left the Dragons unable to escape, but for the first time he cursed the limitation, immediately hating himself for it because even though they were trapped the Dragons would be aware of what was happening. He couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be so close and to know for sure that they had the power to save Hanzo and not be able to do it. Realising that Hanzo was still mumbling under his breath, growing increasingly agitated and suddenly McCree found himself slumping forward against the desk, the fight going out of him as he realised that he didn’t have time. The feeling of defeat was crushing, and his eyes were stinging fiercely as he fought to get his voice to work again. “Hanzo, sweetheart…it’s okay.”

**_“No…don’t…”_ **

“I…” Bile rose, cutting off the words for a moment, but he forced it back, making himself say the words that Hanzo wanted to hear. “I won’t. Sweetheart, I won’t come.” He caught the slight buzz that had entered the line and he guessed that the others had hacked the call after he hadn’t answer, but he didn’t have any words for them, his attention focused solely on Hanzo. “Hanzo…I…” _I’m so sorry._  He was sorry that they had taken the mission despite their doubts, sorry that he wasn’t there with Hanzo even if it would have left them in an even worse position, sorry that the only thing he could do to help at this point was to heed Hanzo’s desperate pleas to stay away.

 ** _“Me…too.”_** Hanzo whispered, the relief at McCree’s agreement to stay away evident in his voice, at least until he shifted slightly, slipping further as his voice dropped back to the lost whisper from before. ** _“Jesse?”_** There was a sharp intake of breath and he knew that the others were just beginning to realise how dire things were, and he prayed that Genji was still away on his mission, not wanting his friend to hear this.

“I’m still here.” He couldn’t say anything else, vision blurring as he stared at Hanzo, waiting for a response and terrified that each struggling breath would be the last. Scared that, that would be the last thing that Hanzo said to him and, yet his voice wouldn’t work.

_Hanzo…_

**_“…esse...”_** When Hanzo finally spoke again McCree barely caught it, pressing the communicator closer, everything hurting as he realised that Hanzo’s breathing was worse than ever and all he could manage at the moment was a soft hum to show that he was still there. That he was listening, and it seemed to be enough. ** _“…cherry blossoms…you.”_ **It took McCree a painfully long moment to make sense of what he was trying to say, a bitter noise rising in the back of his throat as he realised that Hanzo was recalling the promise they had made.

The promise they would never get to keep.

“Yeah…” He knew what Hanzo was asking and he couldn’t deny him anything at the moment, not now, and he just prayed that the archer was too far gone to hear the lie his words. “I’ll go and see them.” A stuttering sigh greeted his words and McCree felt sick, because he knew even without being able to see Hanzo’s face that the other man was smiling right now, his lips curling up into the warm smile that had always been reserved for McCree.

**_“Good.”_ **

    The whisper faded away, lost in the dull roar that was now filling McCree’s ears as he waited with baited breath for the next whispered word, the next ragged breath.

It never came.

“Hanzo…?” His voice cracked in the middle and he swallowed harshly, his ear hurting as he pressed the communicator closer, squishing his ear as thought that would make a difference. “Hanzo? Sweetheart?” Where was the soft noise that usually greeted that nickname? His stomach twisting itself in knots as he realised that Hanzo hadn’t commented on it once whilst they had been speaking, even though in his terror McCree had let it slip more than once. “Hanzo?!” His voice was rising now, reality threatening to crush him, and he shook his head, hand on the screens as though he could reach through them and touch the still form in that cursed glass cage. “HANZO! HANZO!!”

   Someone was screaming, an anguished noise that grated on his nerves, but he couldn’t tell them to stop, couldn’t get the words out to tell them he was listening for a breath that wasn’t coming. It was only when his knees gave way, the collision with the floor drawing a grunt from his lips that eh realised the noise had been coming from him. With that realisation came a moment of silence, and he bowed his head, a dampness on his cheeks telling him that his tears had spilled over without him noticing, and as he raised a trembling hand to them, a sob slid out. A broken, hollow sound as though tears could express what he had just lost.

_Hanzo._

He had lost Hanzo.

    He was spiralling again, barely aware of the frantic voices coming over the communicator now. Unable to care that the others had witnessed his raw grief, that they were grieving too. He was slipping, darkness creeping in and he was ready to welcome it, ready to do anything if it meant even a brief respite from this reality when he froze. For a moment, he thought it was his imagination, that the situation had broken him completely, but then he heard it again, footsteps on the floor below, a creaking that said someone was on the stairs. _They’re here._ In his grief he had forgotten that they must know where he was, that they would be coming for him.

Now, he welcomed it…

“They’re here,” he whispered, realising that he was still holding the communicator. His was empty, calm and his hands were steady as he reached for Peacekeeper and eased her out of her holster. The weight of the gun was reassuring in his hand and he slowly lifted his head, staring at the still image of his lover on the screen, the hollow promise that he had never meant to keep echoing through his head. _I’m sorry sweetheart, I’m not going to get to see those cherry blossoms in this lifetime…_

 ** _“McCree get out of there!”_** Winston’s voice broke through his thoughts and he flinched, hearing the pain and guilt in the other’s voice, knowing that this loss would weigh heavily on him. It would weigh heavily on all of them, but he was also angry at the Scientist for suggesting that he flee. Telling him to leave this place behind when Hanzo was never going to get the chance to do the same, telling him to go home, when his home had been destroyed moments ago and he couldn’t stop the anger leeching into his voice as he slowly rose to his feet.

“I don’t think so.”

 ** _“Jesse…”_** _Genji…_ McCree wanted to curse at the familiar voice, aching at the anguish in that single word and he wanted to say something, anything, that would offer the youngest Shimada some kind of comfort. But the words wouldn’t come, after all what he could say? Sorry I didn’t protest him? I’m sorry that you will have to live with our final moments?

 ** _“McCree, that is an order.”_** Soldier 76 was on the line now, gruff voice cracking, sounding more desperate than McCree had ever heard him since the older man had finally heeded the recall. He felt a slight pang at being the one to put that emotion there, but even that wasn’t going to be enough to stop him and he sighed, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” he whispered, eyes on the screen once more. The apology for more than his friends on the end of the line, and before they could say anything he ended the call, letting the communicator fall to the ground and crushing it beneath his boot. _I’m sorry Sweetheart, I think I’ll be seeing you sooner than you wanted,_ he added silently as he stared at Hanzo, listening as the floor outside the door dipped and creaked, betraying their movements and his lips drew back in a snarl as his fingers tightened on his gun, muscles tensing as he heard the handle start to jiggle.

_I’ll see you soon, Hanzo._


End file.
